


Shirtless

by Altais4



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post Episode: s04e06 Yverdon-les-Bains, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2352905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altais4/pseuds/Altais4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas didn't do bars anymore. But with Martin's new sleeping habits, what else could he do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shirtless

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Ianina for beta!

Douglas didn't do bars anymore. But there he was, not far from the hotel, watching some tall blonde swaggering her hips lasciviously to muted jazz music. He wasn't overly fond of that, either - bars with dancing. He preferred these things to be separated. 

The music changed and the blonde, who reminded him a bit of Helena, was slowly coming over. May or may not be interested. Years ago, Douglas could have told at the first glance. Now, he wasn't so sure anymore. She might just as well be friends with the dark-skinned barman, who seemed to be proud to elicit a smile from every girl frequenting this establishment. There weren't too many.

In fact, there wasn't much going on here. Or maybe it was the kind of place that only got busy after midnight. Not that he cared. Wearily Douglas took a sip from his pineapple juice, the slim glass thankfully filled halfway with ice which neutralised the sugary sweetness somewhat. 

Truth be told, he'd become quite partial to the drink ever since their stopover at Kilkenny Airport earlier this year. Apart from its undoubtedly sickening sweetness, it tasted significantly less dull than apple juice. And pretending to drink whisky when he really wasn't was another thing he didn't do anymore. He didn't see the point when there was no one he wanted to impress, anyway. 

Douglas let another glance sweep across the room. As predicted, the blonde was now chatting to the barman, which was absolutely fine by him. He didn't come here for the company - or more precisely, he came here for _not_ being in company.

Oddly enough, it wasn't Arthur's perpetual cheerfulness he needed to escape from. He'd grown rather fond of the man, especially now, when everyone else was on the verge of moving on. 

Carolyn and Herc, though, the Golden Couple of MJN, were a completely different matter. Since they'd come to an understanding - whatever that entailed - they seemed determined to bless the whole crew with their friendly, or should he say love-struck, banter. Douglas shuddered. Wasn't it enough that he had to share the flight deck with the two lovebirds for the foreseeable future? 

Carolyn might still be in denial, but in three weeks time Martin would leave for Zurich, inevitably lured away by a professional contract and a princess. Douglas was under no illusions that there'd be a proper replacement for their elusive captain. There simply wasn't time to find another idiot who'd work for free. So, with Herc's help, they'd keep their jobs and MJN would turn into a charming hobby for the elderly - a rather depressing thought.

And then there was little Captain Perfect himself. Presently sitting happily ensconced in their double bed, nose buried in the flight manual. When Carolyn had got cosy with Herc, she'd insisted on the pilots sharing a room, as well. To cover the extra expenses for the sumptuous fruit tray, most certainly. However, ensuing late-night discussions about aviation aside, Douglas didn't mind as such. In his opinion they'd become rather comfortable in each other's company. 

Well, a bit too comfortable lately, as it seemed. 

Douglas closed his eyes for a moment, before he took a large swig of juice, tiny remnants of ice cubes sloshing around his mouth. In his mind's eye he could still see the image of Martin sitting in bed, shirtless, calmly leaning against the headboard, as he studied one of his treasured manuals. In the warm lamplight the pale skin had taken on the colour of honey, beautifully complemented by his small, pinkish nipples pertly jutting out. The upper body and his arms were toned nicely from the man with a van job, delightfully sprinkled with tiny freckles. The sparse chest hair was surprisingly dark.

Douglas shook his head, trying to fend off the much too vivid memory. Oddly enough, his captain had appeared completely indifferent of the impression he'd been giving. 

The whole thing had started two weeks ago, on a layover in Bangkok. In the sweltering heat and humid air of their cheap hotel room, Martin had suddenly put his book aside and unbuttoned his shirt as he slowly stripped down to the waist. Lying down gingerly on the threadbare mattress, he'd resumed reading, half-hidden by the mosquito net. Quite sensibly so, even if Douglas had never seen him this casual. However, when the air-conditioning finally kicked in, he'd stoically remained like this, unmoving, until his bare chest was sporting goosebumps all over and the nipples grew hard from the cold. 

Since then, he'd developed a little routine. Every night, Martin would enter the bathroom fully clothed in his precious uniform, prissy little captain that he was, just to emerge minutes later half-naked, clad in his faded pyjama bottoms imprinted with the little aeroplanes - and nothing else. No explanation. Next, he'd get into his side of the bed, take up the manual and start reading. Come to think of it there wasn't much talk about aviation anymore, either.

Douglas sighed heavily. It was as if Martin had abandoned all modesty overnight. Which certainly couldn't be true if the enticing shade of red he was now regularly sporting was anything to go by. Just to compliment his nipples. Douglas groaned. Call him old-fashioned, but it simply wasn't decent. 

He had put up with many of Martin's mannerisms over time, but this, this wasn't like him. Flaunting his nakedness for the entire world to see. And Douglas couldn't help but staring at the freckled skin and rosy pecks of his captain. Which made him feel much more uncomfortable than the occasion warranted. Hence the bar.

With something akin to desperation, he checked his watch as he tried to calculate how long it would take Martin to fall asleep. Not much longer he hoped. Mentally resigning himself to another half-hour of boredom, Douglas raised his hand to signal the barman for one more drink. That's when he noticed a sudden commotion at the entrance. 

Good Lord, Captain Crieff was entering the bar. 

A few steps in, the man hesitated as he swept the place with a searching look. Instinctively Douglas ducked and turned his head. Ah, too late. He had been spotted. Recognition dawning, Martin hurried over until they were face to face. He looked furious. 

"Douglas, where have you been?" he started without preamble. "I've been searching the entire hotel for you." He stood very close, breathing heavily. Well, at least he'd remembered putting a shirt on before he went out.

"Is that so, sir?" Douglas drawled, temper rising. "I wasn't aware that I was accountable for my spare time too." After all, it wasn't his fault that he had to kill time at this godforsaken place.

"We'll have to go to sleep right now, or tomorrow we'll be out of hours," Martin exclaimed. He pointed at his genuine Patek Philippe.

"And why are _you_ here and not sleeping? If I remember correctly you prepared for bed a while ago," Douglas asked sardonically. 

At that, Martin relapsed into silence as abruptly as he'd started his tirade. 

"So, what?" Douglas prompted again. 

Martin simply shook his head. He slumped onto the nearest barstool and started fiddling with Douglas' abandoned straw. "I couldn't sleep with you still being out," he admitted sheepishly. 

"And I can't sleep with you stripping half-naked all the time. It's annoying," Douglas shot back, surprised by his own reaction. But the last weeks had been such a nuisance. 

"You noticed?" Martin spluttered, blushing hard. 

"Well, it was hard not to," Douglas returned more calmly, recalling all their nights together he'd barely avoided to openly goggle. "I mean it wasn't exactly subtle, with all that naked skin and nipples." 

"Douglas, please..." Martin had gone white as a sheet. "You don't need to worry. I won't do it anymore," he stammered.

"Look..." Douglas began. Maybe this was his chance to shed light upon Martin's erratic behaviour. "Care to tell me what this is all about? A subtle reminder that you haven't got the money for a new pyjama top?" he mocked lightly. 

He had barely said the words when he regretted the overused jibe. But he seemed to have guessed wrong, anyway, because Martin had gone crimson again and was looking anywhere but him. As if the truth embarrassed him even more than mere lack of funds. 

"You are not ill? Are you feverish?" Automatically Douglas reached out to feel the temperature of Martin's brow like he'd done countless times for his daughters. At the stricken look on the other man's face, he hastily pulled back. 

"Douglas, drop it! You really don't get it, do you? You of all people!" Martin huffed angrily and turned away. He began to look around, as if becoming aware of his surroundings for the first time. When he caught sight of the blonde, his eyes went wide. "I'm so sorry. I won't do it again," he repeated, looking mortified. 

Baffled Douglas scrutinized Martin and the girl. She smiled at the two men, apparently ready to come over. Well, he had to admit that his Captain actually did look good with his tousled bed-hair, in a boyish sort of way. Douglas felt an odd pang of jealousy.

And suddenly it clicked. "Martin, is this some haphazard tryout of your seduction skills? For Theresa?" he asked, suspiciously. "The flight manual might be a bit of a hindrance, though." 

"N-no, not her..." Martin rasped. He raised his head almost imperceptibly and looked Douglas straight in the eye.

"What...?" Douglas froze as their gazes locked. There was a deep blush spreading out all over the Captain's upper body, slightly visible through the white shirt. "Of all things to seduce me . . . with a flight manual, Martin?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, you noticed," Martin ventured boldly. 

Douglas just stared, feeling light-headed. He thought of all those little details that had burned themselves into his mind. The contrast of milk-white skin with the occasional patches of pink, or the charming little bellybutton resting in tufts of auburn. The short trail of soft hair leading down inside the faded pyjama pants. Douglas swallowed hard.

"And did you like it?" Martin challenged softly. 

"Well, it's..." Douglas tried to snap himself out of his reverie. This was his Captain, for heaven's sake. But his gaze went inevitably to the sea-green eyes and the full lips. Even his hands seemed to act out of their own volition as they reached for Martin's shirt, thumps stroking the hard buds underneath the soft fabric. Douglas realised that this was something he'd longed to do for quite some time.

"So, since you've liked it... liked me..." Martin gulped. "Why did you leave?"

Douglas averted his eyes for a moment, to distract himself from the tempting image. Desperately he tried to think of all the reasons why this was madness, not least his own track record with relationships. Besides Martin was going to leave in three weeks time. There was a whole new life waiting for him in Switzerland. 

Looking at the wondrous young man standing before him, Douglas decided that he didn't care. With a warm smile, he stepped forward and he pulled Martin into a soft kiss. 

"Yes, why indeed?" he whispered.

 

The End


End file.
